


i promise

by brucexselina



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Heavy Angst, because I say so, but!, nesta apologist?, she has nothing to apologize for, suicidal thoughts (barely but i figured i'd tag it just to be safe), takes place a year after ACOFAS, they don't go to the illyrian mountains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucexselina/pseuds/brucexselina
Summary: “You have no idea what I have been through,” She hisses through her teeth.“Then tell me,” He says, emotion slowly overtaking the mask he set on earlier.“And why would I do that?"“Because,” He stammers. “Because I care about you.”She scoffs. “No, you don’t.”OR, Nesta and Cassian don't go to the Illyrian Mountains after ACOFAS.Nesta goes to the winter solstice party where she finally has to confront not only Cassian, but her feelings for him.
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 23
Kudos: 63





	i promise

Nesta sits on the cold tile of her apartment floor, staring into the empty fireplace. The paper in her hand, adorned with flowing script, is the source of her current thoughts. An invitation. To celebrate the winter solstice. An invitation to celebrate the winter solstice with Feyre and her followers. Feyre did not give this invitation to Nesta, though. No, it was Elain’s penmanship that graced the paper, asking Nesta to join her and the fools that made up the Inner Circle to celebrate. 

Nesta’s eyes scan the invitation again. This invitation, this flimsy piece of paper, is the first piece of contact Nesta’s had with _that_ group since the last winter solstice. That night, Nesta did not only walk away from the winged man with hazel eyes. She walked away from all of them, forever. 

Or so she thought, until now. 

Nesta seldom leaves her apartment. Before the last winter solstice, she filled the gap in her soul with drinking until she could no longer see straight and fucking any man that crossed her path. She’s different now. Instead of trying to fill the void, she lets that void manifest and overtake everything she is. She is not happy, but she is not necessarily sad either. She feels nothing. She _is_ nothing. 

The one day Nesta leaves her apartment, daring to venture into town to purchase a meager amount of food so she does not starve to death, she comes back to find the invitation wedged under the door. 

Which leaves her to where she is now, her gaze trained on the barren fireplace, contemplating what to do. When she left them all last year, she meant it to be permanent. And it has been thus far. But, the small kernel in her heart, the kernel filled with emotion, still _cares_. Nesta cannot help but feel for her sweet, kind sister Elain. And perhaps an even smaller piece of her heart wants to see _him_ , though she would never admit to that. 

It is decided then. To see her sister again, Nesta will go. 

-

For the first time in months, Nesta changes out of a filthy dress she does not bother to wash and adorns a pewter colored gown. Without owning a mirror, she doesn’t know what her appearance looks like. Even with her gown, though, Nesta can assume she doesn’t look well. She has lost even more weight since the last solstice, and the lack of sleep she gets most likely accounts for the dark, bruise-like circles under her eyes. Not bothering to fit in with the Inner Circle, whom she knows will be decked out in extravagant jewelry and intricate hairstyles, Nesta brushes her hair behind her pointy ears and uses a leather strap to tie it into a low bun. Slipping on a simple pair of black flats, Nesta makes her way out of her apartment, not bothering to don a coat. The frigid chill outside cannot be worse than the frigid chill in Nesta’s soul. 

The walk to the townhouse is difficult for Nesta. Not physically, but mentally. She has tried to rid these people, and all the things associated with them, from her memory. Now, she is voluntarily making her way to spend time with them. 

Nesta’s breath quickly whooshes out of her mouth once the townhouse comes into view. The lights inside are on, indicating that there are people within. Obviously there are people inside, but it makes the situation all the more _real_ to Nesta. She is _really_ doing this. 

Walking up the steps to the doorway, Nesta can hear raucous laughter from inside. She takes one final deep breath before raising her hand and knocking. The cacophony of sound immediately silences. Soft footsteps make their way to the entrance, unlatching the lock and opening the door. 

“Nesta,” Elain breathes. “You came.” 

Elain looks radiant. She is wearing a light pink gown with her hair styled into a side braid. Her face is glowing, her eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed. Nesta cannot help but notice the slight panic in her eyes, panic Nesta can only assume is due to her arrival. 

Not knowing exactly how to respond, Nesta gives a slight dip of her head as a silent ‘yes’. 

“Come in, come in. It’s freezing outside,” Elain states, ushering Nesta inside. 

Stepping over the threshold, Nesta enters the townhouse. A place she swore to herself she would never enter again. 

“Everyone is already here.” Elain chuckles nervously as she gestures for them to walk towards the living room. “They’ll all be surprised to see you.”

Nesta sharply turns her head to look at Elain. “No one thought I would come?” She asks. 

“Well,” Elain starts, suddenly looking guilty. “It’s not really that no one _thought_ you wouldn’t come.” Elain turns her gaze to the floor, unable to meet Nesta’s intense stare. 

“They actually don’t know you were invited,” She finishes quietly. 

“Excuse me?” Nesta seethes. 

“I’m sorry, Nesta. I didn’t think you would actually show up, so I didn’t see why I had to tell them-“

Nesta cuts her off with a scoff and turns on her heel, eyeing the door. Before she can step one foot forward, Elain jumps in her line of sight. 

“Don’t leave. They’ll- they will be surprised, but they’ll come around eventually. I promise,” Elain pleads. 

There it is again. People making promises they cannot keep.

_I will find you in the next life, I promise._

Stop. Don’t think about that. Not now. 

The desperation in Elain’s eyes stirs up an emotion in Nesta’s stomach that she has not felt in a while. It is that desperation, that anguish that causes for Nesta to say in acquisance, “Okay.” 

Elain beams, relief coating her features. “Great! Now come on, let’s go sit down.” 

Elaine takes Nesta by the elbow and guides her to the living room. Rounding the corner, Nesta is met with six faces who definitely heard that entire conversation, but were pretending they hadn’t by speaking quietly amongst themselves. Feyre and her lapdog were seated near the fire on a chaise clearly only meant for one person. Amren was standing by said chair on one side of the fire, with Azriel on the other side, wings tucked in tightly behind him. Across the room, Mor was seated on a couch with the _other_ Illyrian. All of them had a glass of wine in hand, with all of their features tense. Feyre, being the first to meet Nesta’s gaze, only says one thing. 

“Nesta, what a surprise,” She states with no hint of joy or delight in her voice. 

Before Nesta can say a biting remark, Elain says, “Be nice. She’s my guest.”

“Maybe you should have told the rest of us you were inviting her,” Feyre hisses. 

“Well, I am telling you now,” Elain replies in an attempted cheerful tone. Tugging on Nesta’s arm once more, Elain says, “Please, sit down. Would you like anything to drink?”

“No, thank you.” Nesta says tensely, sitting down on an unoccupied couch with her back ramrod straight. 

Elain sits on Nesta’s left, physically creating a buffer between Nesta and the Inner Circle. There is an awkward lull in conversation, nobody besides Elain daring to look in Nesta’s direction, and Nesta not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze.

A voice near the fire pipes up. “Alright, who wants presents?” Azriel asks, trying to add some levity to the strained atmosphere. 

“That’s the best offer I’ve heard all night, brother,” Rhysand states, gently lifting his arm from around Feyre’s shoulders in order to stand, making his way towards the pile of gifts.

Feyre turns to Nesta once more, cutting her a withering glare. So much is portrayed in just one look. _None of these gifts are for you. You shouldn’t even be here. Go home, Nesta._

Nesta looks away from Feyre, opting to focus on her hands she has placed in her lap that are clenched so tightly her knuckles are as white as the snow outside. 

“I’m sorry,” Elain whispers from her seated position next to her. “I would have bought you a gift if I thought you were going to be here.”

“No matter,” Nesta says evenly in return. 

The gift giving passes in a blur. With no one interacting with Nesta, she spends most of the time questioning why she bothered showing up to a place filled with people who despise her. Nesta can only recall two gifts that were exchanged. It was essentially a repeat of last year. Mor and that arrogant bat gave each other lingerie because apparently this little skit needed to be performed again, with the latter saying she should try on the gift for him later.

Nesta continuously tells herself none of this matters, these _people_ do not matter. They can be a merry family for the rest of eternity without her. With the last gift being given, and these thoughts swirling in her mind, Nesta rises from her seated position on the couch and leaves.

Not sparing a glance over her shoulder at the seven people now behind her, Nesta wrenches open the door and walks into the blistering winter night. 

Reaching the gate to the townhouse, Nesta hears harried footsteps behind her.

“Nesta!” Elain’s voice calls out. “Come back inside.”

Nesta whips around to face Elain, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue ready to lash at her sister when her gaze shifts up towards the open doorway. _Him._

Looking directly at him for the first time all night, Nesta takes in his appearance. His hair is its usual tossled mess, and he’s wearing a maroon tunic with leather pants that showcase the powerful muscle rippling along every inch of his being. His face is impassive, but his eyes tell a different story. The sadness and sorrow plaguing his hazel eyes is too much. He is too much.

Without looking at Elain again, Nesta pivots and walks away, leaving the townhouse and everyone inside it behind.

-

Nesta does not immediately go back to her sorry excuse for an apartment. Instead, she ventures towards the sidra. The waves gently crash into one another, creating a soft lullaby in sound. Without wanting to, Nesta sees _him_ launching the gift he intended to give her into the depths of the sidra last year. Nesta knows he did not see her look back, and-

She hears the rustle of wings, recognizes the cadence of the footsteps approaching her. 

“I am not doing this again,” Nesta says. There is no anger in her tone, no fury, nothing. Her voice is detached of any emotion.

“Then let’s not,” he replies. There is no need for them to reference what they are talking about. Nesta’s thoughts were already occupied by last year’s events before he showed, but he clearly knows what she is talking about based on his reply. The hurt from last year’s solstice is still buried in both of their hearts, making it unforgettable. 

Cassian moves to stand on Nesta’s left, both of their gazes on the silk-like water. She heaves in a rattled breath, just his presence is enough to shake her. He may feel the same about her, judging by the inhale he attempts to take. From the corner of her eye, she sees him opening his mouth. 

“Don’t,” She says quietly, but not weakly. She does not allow him the chance to speak. By ‘not doing this again’, she means she does not even want to talk to him, let alone argue.

She feels his scorching gaze shift onto her, unyielding.

“Only you would go to a celebration and sulk the entire time.” He laughs humorlessly, clearly ignoring her earlier statement. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced with whatever _this_ is.

She does not deign to give him an answer, knowing he wants a reaction from her. Instead, she continues to look out at the sidra, watching the soft ripples in the water.

She still cannot take a bath, not after that one night in Hybern that changed her life forever. Even though she would never go into the sidra, or any body of water, willingly, she can’t help but think what it would be like to dive down to the very bottom and never resurface.

Cassian, unaware of her inner turmoil, continues. “I don’t know what I expected from you, though. Being an ice cold bitch is ninety percent of your personality.”

She has never heard this tone from his before. He sounds so _mean._ So bitter. He is like an archer, bow and arrow in hand, poised to kill an unsuspecting animal. Though there is no bow. There is no arrow and animal. There is only his sharp words intended to wound their target. Her.

“And yet here you are,” she says, figuring he will not leave without hearing at least one word from her. She can’t match the bite in his tone, though. She is too tired to do that. She’s so fucking tired.

It is her tiredness, her desire to be done with this conversation, that influences her to continue speaking.

Still not looking at him, she says, “Go back to the townhouse.” Her statement echoes what she told him last year, making it clear her earlier plead to not redo the year prior will not be met.

“No,” he states firmly. “I want to know what happened to you.”

She tightly clenches her jaw, trying to reign in the sudden wave of anger overcoming her due to his statement. For the first time since his appearance by her side, she cocks her head, finally meeting his gaze. His mouth is drawn taught and his eyebrows are furrowed. His eyes are guarded, but she can see the emotion he is trying to tamper down.

“You want to know what happened to me?” She asks lowly, the rage in her voice detectable.

Cassian does not back down, still meeting her simmering gaze. “That's what I said.”

She knows, she _knows_ if she does not calm down, all of her emotions will come spilling out of her. She knows she will spit hot fire, setting aflame everything and everyone in her path. And right now, the only one in her path is Cassian.

“You have no idea what I have been through,” She hisses through her teeth.

“Then tell me,” He says, emotion slowly overtaking the mask he set on earlier.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because,” He stammers. “Because I care about you.”

She scoffs. “No, you don’t.”

He recoils a bit, not expecting her to deny his statement so quickly. “Yes, I do,” He reaffirms.

“You do?” She asks incredulously. “How can you care about me when you never even _talk_ to me?”

“That’s not true-“

“How so? You could not even speak to me twenty minutes ago. And let’s not pretend like we don’t know why.” She halts her tirade, trying to even her breathing. Cassian _wanted_ this, though. He wanted a fight. And a fight is what he was going to get.

“You only speak to me when _no one_ is around to see it,” She proclaims, her tone coated in anger. “You can’t speak to me around your precious Inner Circle because if they all hate me, you have to as well.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It is completely fair. It has _always_ been like that, even before the war.”

And there it is. Nesta has finally mentioned the one thing they have never discussed. The war. The battlefield. _That moment._

“I don’t know what to say,” He whispers. He looks wrecked. His face is a mural of sorrow and regret.

She huffs out a laugh devoid of humor, turning to look at the water once more.

“Then leave.”

“I don’t want to.” He sounds ruined.

“Fine. Then I will.” She retorts, turning away form the man who givers her equal parts hope and heartache. She barely moves an inch before she feels a calloused hand wrap around her wrist. 

“Please, don’t. Don’t leave.”

She allows for the warmth from his hand to seep into her cold, fractured heart for just a moment before she rips her wrist from his grasp.

“You should go back. We wouldn’t want anyone to find you here with me,” She replies, schooling her features into cool indifference. 

“I don’t care what they think.”

“You and I both know that is not true.”

Cassian sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just…they’re my family.” He says defensively.

“Okay,” She replies disinterestedly. She has finally reeled back her temper, and she wants to keep it that way. If she does not leave soon, Nesta doesn’t know if she will be able to keep her cool front.

“Come on, Nesta. I’m trying,” He pleads, extending his hands out as if he wants to touch her, but changes his mind and firmly plants his arms on both sides of his body.

“Does Mor know you are here with me?” She asks him, already knowing the answer. 

Mor hates Nesta, but Nesta suspects the hatred Mor feels for the idea of Nesta and Cassian together far surpasses the hatred the blonde has solely for herself. And Cassian, Cassian whose heart overflows will loyalty, would never want to upset Mor. 

Cassian inhales deeply through his nose, shifting his gaze up to the stars. “No,” Cassian whispers, returning his eyes back to Nesta’s. ”No, she doesn’t.”

A beat, then, “Goodnight, Cassian,” She says with finality.

This time, when she turns to walk away, he does not stop her. The walk back to her apartment is almost met with silence, the only sound being the fractured pieces of her heart hitting the ground beneath her step, shattering into a million pieces.

-

The next few days after the winter solstice are met with a monotonous routine. Nesta sleeps, or for lack of a better term _tries_ to sleep, and sits on a chair during the day that is barely standing on its own four legs. 

Her traitor for a brain will not stop thinking about _him_. About Cassian. Their conversation plays on a continuous loop in her mind, plaguing her thoughts throughout the day and haunting her dreams. He just, he sounded so _sad_ , so heartbroken. As for her, the cavernous hole in her heart has now been filled with hurt, leaving her to wonder if she would rather feel nothing in comparison to this. 

Whether she likes it or not, Nesta cares about Cassian. He sets her soul on fire, igniting her from the inside out. What hurts the most, though, is that she does not know how he feels. She knows from the other night he claims to care about her, but how can he care about her when he acts like she doesn’t _exist_ when around anyone else? What she said last night, about him only speaking to her when the Inner Circle is absent, is a fact he could not deny and he knows it. 

Gripping the arms of the chair Nesta is currently occupying, she shakes her head as if she can physically rid these thoughts from her mind.

“Fuck it,” Nesta whispers to herself, using the arms of the chair to hoist herself up. Smoothing her hands over the wrinkles on her dark green dress, she simultaneously slips on the same pair of black flats she wore last night. Not bothering to tie her hair up, she glances out the window to see the snow delicately flying in the air. Nesta decides to put on a black peacoat, quickly brushing off the dust covering it due to her lack of wearing it. 

Making her way towards the door, Nesta figures she would rather leave her apartment than torment herself over him. 

Unlocking the five locks on her door, Nesta opens it, feeling the cold chill from outside immediately assault her body. The cold, this chill, makes her feel like she can finally _breathe_.

Nesta makes her way to the center of Velaris, obviously not going to speak to passersby, but to maybe look in shop windows, perhaps buy something out of necessity, literally to do _anything_ other than think about him. 

The town is covered in multi-colored lights, every shop window showcasing their best items. The amount of people out is, luckily, not overwhelming. Nesta does not know if she would have been able to handle large, bustling crowds. 

She meanders around town, hears the snow crunching under each step she takes, looking into different shop windows. Nesta halts in front of one dress shop, admiring the deep red gown through the window. The neckline plunges into a deep v with the bodice and sleeves tightly fitted to the mannequin, the bottom half flowing out, gracing the shop floor. It is _beautiful_ , and maybe Nesta will be brave enough to venture inside and buy-

A booming laugh from somewhere behind her interrupts her thoughts.

Turning around slowly, as if the slower she turns the less likely he is to be there, Nesta sees the owner of that uproarious guffaw. 

Cassian is standing near a store window across from the one Nesta is currently stationed at. He’s accompanied by Azriel and Mor. Her traitorous mind rears into gear once more, taking into account how good he looks. Perhaps he visited the Illyrian Mountains earlier because he’s wearing his fighting leathers. Leathers that stick to his body like a second skin, leaving no room for the imagination. 

The trio are talking amongst themselves, looking carefree. 

Nesta finds that she can’t tear her eyes away from him. Aside from the other night, she had not seen him in a year. Looking at him now, watching a genuine smile overtake his features, rather than that infuriating smirk, is a sight to see. A sight she never wants to look away from. A sight she could look at for the rest of her life (her statement still stands when considering the fact she is immortal).

Cassian laughs loudly again, tilting his head up towards the sky so all of Velaris can hear his laughter. Shifting his head back down with the remnants of laughter still dancing across his features, Cassian’s gaze shifts towards some unknown point across the street, and then onto her. 

_Damn._ The amusement on his face is now gone, replaced by surprise. His eyes widen, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ shape. 

Nesta immediately turns back towards the store window, her unbound hair whipping her in the face due to how quickly she spins around. Her skin flushes in embarrassment from how obvious she was when staring at him _and_ when turning away. She left her apartment in order to get away from just the _thought_ of him, not to see him in the flesh. 

Behind her, she hears a rustle of movement along with a fervent yet hushed “ _No_ , Cassian,” before she feels someone’s presence behind her.

“Pretty dress,” Cassian says in greeting, amusement dripping from his tone. 

Without turning around, Nesta replies flatly, “Indeed it is.”

“Hey,” He stage whispers. “Look at us. Talking to one another with an audience.” There is a sense of victory in his tone, as if he just made the winning move in a game of chess. 

Nesta continues to stare at the gown, choosing not to reply. 

Realizing this, Cassian continues. “Funny, I thought you said _I_ was the one that never talks to _you_.” She does not have to look at him to know that he is wearing his trademark smirk. 

Before Nesta can whip out a sharp retort, a voice speaks up. 

“Come on, Cassian! We’re leaving,” Mor’s voice calls out from across the street. 

Nesta can still feel Cassian behind her when he replies, saying, “You both go. I’ll see you later.” 

Mor scoffs in reply, muttering, “Let’s go, Azriel,” before Nesta hears their footsteps retreat. 

“You should have left with them,” Nesta murmurs. 

“And miss out on an opportunity to spend time with my number one fan? No, I don’t think so.” 

Nesta huffs out a breath. “Cute,” She deadpans. 

“Right? I’m glad we can both finally agree on something.” 

Cassian moves forward then, his chest barely brushing her back. She can feel him lean his head forward, bringing his mouth next to her left ear. 

“I’ve been thinking. If you would like, I could buy you a similar outfit to the one I gave Mor during the solstice. Free of charge, the only condition being you try it on for me,” He whispers. 

Despite her best efforts not to, Nesta feels a chill wrack her spine. A chill not from the winter air. Nesta turns around, having to crane her head upwards in order to look into his hazel eyes. There is only a whisper of space between them.

Nesta sneers, stating, “All you males are just the same. Pathetically following women around until you get the one thing you want. Was I not clear the other night? Or the solstice the year prior? I don’t _want_ you. Now leave me alone.”

Before Nesta can move to walk away, Cassian begins speaking, no traces of amusement left on his face. Now, he looks slightly wounded.

“Is that so?” He asks coldly. “From what I remember of the other night, you were _begging_ me to speak to you more. You even mentioned the war against Hybern where-“

“Do _not_ talk about that.”

“Why not? You don’t want to talk about how you wouldn’t leave me to die? You don’t want to talk about how you shielded my body with your own? Hey, how about we talk about when you-“ 

“Shut your damn mouth you _fucking_ -“

“How long, Nesta? How long until we talk about that night? Or are we going to pretend like it never happened?” Cassian’s eyes are blazing with emotion, scorching Nesta’s heart. His chest is heaving, practically bumping against her own with every inhale. 

“I do not want to talk about it,” Nesta replies in a non-answer. 

“Too bad, sweetheart. We’re talking about it right now.” 

“You may command that army of yours, but you do not command me.”

Ignoring her words, Cassian continues. “I know you care about me, at least a little bit, because you were willing to _die_ with me. So you can stop this bullshit charade now.”

Nesta scoffs while simultaneously trying to smother the emotion filling the cracks in her heart. She tries so hard to _never_ think of that night for this very reason. 

Being only able to whisper due to the sudden burst of emotion clogging her throat, Nesta says, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tears spring into her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to blink them away. _Gods, what is happening to her?_ Since starting their conversation, Nesta breaks eye contact, now fixating her gaze on the hollow of his tan throat. 

Cassian, noticing the shift in her emotions, gently says, “Please, Nesta. I can’t- I can’t live the rest of my life without ever speaking about it.”

Tears still lining her eyes, Nesta moves her eyes back towards his own. 

“Fine. Do you want talk about it so badly?” She starts, sadness still filling her voice, though now accompanied by a hint of anger. “Let’s talk about how you _promised_ that when we died, you would find me again. How you said your _biggest_ regret was that we did not have more time.” She’s never felt like this before. With each word she speaks, she feels her blood running hotter and her heart filling with unshed tears. 

Cassian looks taken aback, not expecting her sudden outburst. He opens his mouth, poised to speak, but Nesta cuts him off. 

“You promised me all these things and then _never_ followed through with them! That night we went back to the townhouse, directly after the war, I chose to go back to my own room instead of celebrating with your so-called family because that’s how _I_ chose to cope with the war, instead of drinking champagne and playing idiotic parlor games like the rest of you. And instead of accepting that, you all shunned me! You all treated me like my pain was an inconvenience, rather than something that was eating me alive. I can’t even- I can’t even take a fucking _bath_ without feeling like I’m drowning, feeling like I can’t breathe! And none of you bothered to even _ask_ how I was feeling because you all abandoned me!”

Cassian stares at her in shock, his eyes so wide she can see every bit of white in them. All of Velaris has seemed to quiet from her proclamation.

“Nesta…” He whispers.

With her accelerated heartbeat acting as her guide, she finishes her tirade, unleashing her final blow. “I can handle the rest of them hating me. None of them particularly liked me since the moment I came to the Night Court. What I can’t handle is _you_. Do not try to claim that you treat me the same when around your beloved Inner Circle, because we know that is a lie. How can you care about me when every time Mor comes around you run to her, acting like a pathetic loyal dog, pretending like you do not even know me? The rest of them hate me, yes that is true, but you cannot ignore and despise me when around them but care about me when we are alone. You _can’t_ have it both ways. Not anymore.”

“I…” He looks wounded, as if he were in battle and just received a fatal blow. They are not in battle, though. The fatal blow he just received were her words whipping his heart. 

Nesta knows he has nothing to say in his defense. The knowledge of him not having a response is not what hurts the most. What hurts the most is that she gave him an ultimatum, to care about her in public, _especially_ around the Inner Circle, or to not care for her at all. She knows which option he will pick, and _that_ is what cracks her heart wide open, blood dripping out onto the white snow. 

Nesta takes a step back, creating a physical divide to match the one she mentally placed. 

With one last look into his pained face, she puts one foot in front of the other, walking away from him. This time, she isn’t walking away because she cannot handle her emotions. This time, she is walking away _because_ she handled her emotions, and by doing so, giving him a choice. A choice she cannot bear to watch him make, already knowing his answer. 

-

Nesta reaches her apartment, achieving the exact opposite of what she set out to do when she left earlier. Without going inside, Nesta rests her forehead on the wooden door, inhaling deeply through her nose. 

A part of her feels free. She finally laid everything out on the table, explicitly stating her thoughts and feelings. The other part of her, though, feels mournful. She just lost one of the last people in all of Prythian who makes her _feel_ something.

Nesta’s tumultuous thoughts cancel out any and all noise surrounding her. If Nesta’s senses were in tune with her surroundings, if she were to perhaps lift her head from the door and turn around, she would see a certain Illyrian male flying towards her. 

Nesta exhales through her mouth, the puff of air released noticeable due to the winter air. Hearing someone land a foot behind her, Nesta rolls her eyes, already suspecting who it is. She doesn’t bother turning around. 

“What-“

“I love you,” Cassian says breathlessly. 

Shutting her eyes tightly, Nesta lightly bangs her forehead against the door.

“I want to say something, just for a minute. And if- you don’t have to say anything. Just listen. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Nesta whispers. 

Cassian takes a deep inhale, saying a soft, “okay,” to himself. 

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am. I never- I had no idea what you were going through, and I’m sorry I never asked. You were right, I didn’t follow through on the promises I made. It’s just- _fuck_ , you have always meant so much to me, and I didn’t know how to talk to you after the war, so I didn’t. And I should’ve been there for you.” 

She can hear the rustle of his wings, feel him take a small step closer to her.

His voice comes out weaker this time. “I love you, Nesta. I love you _so fucking much_. I have for a long time. I thought…I thought I had to choose between you and my family. I thought I couldn’t talk to you with them around because it would piss them off. I never took into account how that would make you feel, but the truth is it shouldn’t matter what they think. It _doesn’t_ matter what they think, not anymore. Not if it prevents me from being with you.”

Cassian takes another meager step towards her.

“This is basically my long-winded way of telling you how much you matter to me, how sorry I am, and how I _promise_ to do better.”

The unshed tears filling her heart earlier come pouring out, streaming down her face. Turning around, Nesta leans her back against the door, tentatively meeting his eyes.

“How can I believe you?”

“Nesta,” Cassian breathes, taking one final step towards her, causing her to crane her head to look into his eyes. “I promise- I _promise_ to do better by you. If my family can’t accept that, then maybe they were never my family to begin with. I choose you. I _want_ you.”

Nesta can only stare at him. For once in her life, she is at a loss for words.

Tears still falling from her eyes, Cassian slowly brings his hands towards her face, giving her ample time to push them away if she wishes. Gently cupping her face with both hands to wipe away her tears, he asks softly, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” Nesta replies just as gently. 

They stand like that for a few minutes, breathing in synch with one another. Cassian slowly brings his head forward, resting his forehead against her own, still cupping her face. 

“Please give me a chance.”

Rather than answering, Nesta brings her hands to his face, matching his position. Before she can overthink it, she surges forward, bringing her lips to his own. 

Cassian is still for only a moment before enthusiastically responding, pouring as much emotion as he can into the kiss. 

Nesta has read over a hundred romance novels, each one detailing how earth shattering a kiss can be. She never believed that until now. 

They break away, though neither one of them go far. 

“I love you,” Nesta breathes. “Cassian, I love-“ Cassian brings her towards him, this time him being the one to initiate the kiss. 

This kiss is more intense, more intimate. Cassian’s hands slide down her body, gripping onto her hips. Nesta moves her hands towards the back of his neck, bunching her fingers into his unbound hair. 

She may not have a pair of Illyrian wings, but she suspects this is what flying feels like. 

Nesta coaxes his mouth open with her tongue, Cassian releasing a low groan once her tongue licks into his mouth. 

He winds his strong arms around her back, pulling her closer to eliminate the final breath of space between them. 

Eventually breaking apart once more, she cannot tell if it’s been one minute or one hour. 

Gently caressing her back, Cassian says softly, “You are the most pleasant surprise I have ever gotten in my life. I’m never letting go of you ever again. I promise.”

She believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> the ending doesn't mAgIcAlLy HeAl Nesta's trauma, but she's moving towards recovery (with some help from Cassian) by finally talking about her emotions, and i think that is a good start
> 
> let me know your thoughts! did you hate it? leave a nasty comment in the comment section if so! (please don't i'm fragile)


End file.
